


Come Home

by frankabagnale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 11x03, I have a thing about Cas leaving all the time okay, M/M, coda fix, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5077273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankabagnale/pseuds/frankabagnale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>- but it’s no help. Because for all of his angelic glory, intent and purpose – Castiel is still Cas to Dean. And he wants him here, damn it, piercing blue eyes, messy hair and that stupid trench coat included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Home

The lump of ice has almost melted when Cas tries again. “Dean, this is completely pointless,” he sighs, “Just let me-“

“I said no, Cas.” Dean is adamant, even slightly annoyed with the angel even though he knows it is completely _freaking irrational_ as Cas only wants to help.

“I need to…” he trails off, trying not to look at the blue eyes currently seeking his, “...repent.”

Cas leaves the kitchen without another word.

*

When he’s happily numb (part ice on his face, part beer, but hey, who cares?), he throws the ice pack into the sink and makes for his bedroom. Some part of his brain – that he’s managed to shut up when he had That Thing On His Arm – wonders whether Cas has left the bunker. That same part of his brain now leads him into the library, curiosity at its peak. Maybe he stayed to check out some lore about the Darkness. Maybe he fished out that Dostojevsky he likes so much. Maybe – he’s holding his breath when he steps into the library. Empty.

Dean lets out the breath he’s been holding.

_Of course._

*

He doesn’t sleep. Doesn’t even turn around in his bed. He just lies there, mulling over the million things that are wrong right now (and trying to ignore the swollen side of his face). He’s just so tired. So tired of everything going up in flames as soon he thinks they’ve fixed it. But mostly, he realises bitterly, he hates how Cas isn’t here.

He knows it's irrational and pointless and there are so many things to worry about (mostly the world ending in front of his own two eyes soon) but no. He sighs angrily. Why does this bother him so much?

He knows why. And when he lets himself think about it, he feels his heart clench. Because his train of thoughts these last couple of months went along the way of _once everything is okay, he’ll stay. He won’t flutter off_ and yeah okay, not everything is okay, not even in the slightest. But he’s okay, Sam is okay and Cas is finally okay. And yet he’s left. Again.

He blinks back his tears. He tries to reason with himself in the form of _he’s a freaking wave of celestial intent or whatever,_ he thinks, _he’s ancient, he’s so much more than you, Dean._

But it’s no help. Because for all of his angelic glory, intent and purpose – Castiel is still _Cas_ to Dean. And he wants him here, damn it, piercing blue eyes, messy hair and that stupid trench coat included.

*

Morning comes too early and Dean, well. Hasn’t slept a wink. But it’s fine; he smells coffee and it makes him smile slightly. Sammy always knew how to make his coffee.

He drags himself out of the bed and into the cold corridor. As he’s passing the bathroom, he hears the water running. “Morning,” he knocks on the door, “Sammy get out of the bathroom, I need to shower.”

“Bite me!” come the response and he smiles again, feeling more normal than he has in a while. If he ignores the swollen side of his face. His heart clenches slightly at the thought of Cas as he trudges into the kitchen and –

“Good morning, Dean,” comes the absent-minded greeting as the angel lists a book, carefully inspecting some sigils Dean can’t recognise right now. He might have been feeling drowsy a couple of seconds ago, but now he feels as if someone shoved him into an icy shower.

“Cas,” he hates how his voice breaks, “You’re here.”

“Yes?” The angel lifts up his head to meet Dean’s eyes and that’s when the hunter realises this isn’t the extension of his hallucinations; Cas is actually _here_. At his kitchen table. Reading a book with a half empty cup of coffee and he suspects the empty plate besides him means he also had his beloved peanut butter and jam sandwich.

His heart flutters and he feels infinitely stupid and childish and yet – “You’re here.” he repeats dumbly, standing in the doorway like he’s stuck to it.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas now looks suspicious like this scene is completely normal, like him being a part of Dean’s life for longer than a couple of house is normal. His eyebrows knit together as he rises, “I am sorry. Sam has extended his invitation for me to stay a couple more days before I find a more permanent base, I wasn’t aware he hasn’t consulted with you,” he concludes gravely and Dean thinks _you fucking idiot_ , “I will-“

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Dean interjects with a serious tone, “Sit down.”

Cas still looks infinitely confused, but obliges. He slides back onto his chair as Dean finally approaches the table and sits on the chair next to him. He notices Cas has even taken his trench coat and suit jacket off and for some reason it makes his breath hitch.

“You’re not looking for a permanent freaking base, okay,” he feels his anger rise at the thought of Cas being somewhere, _alone_ , “You’re staying here. Permanently. With me –us, I meant us.” He looks up just in time to catch the sight of surprise on Cas’ face. “Okay,” is all the angel offers in return, “If that’s what you’d like.”

Dean looks up to him earnestly now as he crosses his arms. “Oh. You want to leave?”

“No. I never want to leave you. You know that.”

The way Castiel says it, it sounds so sincere and right and yet it is nowhere near the truth. Dean barks a bitter laugh. “Yeah right. As if-“

“Dean,” Cas’ voice rises slightly and he can feel all the hair on Dean's body stand up suddenly. “I cannot stay at your side forever, there will always be situations that need resolving,” Cas adds, “There will always be something that keeps me away from you,” Dean’s heart is racing and okay, this is going into the area of _The Conversation_ , “but please, do not ever think that I do this voluntarily,” his voice drops to a whisper as he reaches to touch Dean’s face lightly, as if he’s afraid he’ll break - and fuck if Dean isn’t breaking right now – “Because much of the time, I’d rather be with you. As selfish as that is.”

Dean’s breathing has calmed down but he can still hear his thudding heart. Cas smiles sadly as he says, “Please, let me. It’s been killing me; I’ve been driving around all night thinking about the blood on your face, on my hands, on-“

Dean belatedly realises he means healing his bruised face. The hunter hasn’t even thought of the situation weighing on Cas; what it must’ve done to him to have Dean’s blood on his hands yet again.

“Okay,” he finally utters, still relishing in Cas’ hand on his cheek, trying to memorise the feel of it. “Okay, Cas.”

But instead of the two fingers to the forehead, Castiel slides to his knees before him and reaches up with both hands now, encasing the hunter’s face. He makes sure they’re holding eye contact as he whispers reverently, “I am so sorry. Forgive me,” and Dean feels the wisp of Grace go through him, knitting skin back together as it goes.

When it’s done, Dean is still grasping Cas’s hands desperately and looking down at him like a wounded animal. “You’re staying?” He needs to hear it, he thinks. He needs to hear it again.

“Yes,” Cas smiles again and strokes his now healed face, “I’m staying.”


End file.
